Alas, For Captains No Hope
by MichAdommyMaroon5
Summary: Mirkwood, T.A. 2891. Fifty years before history would reach another black point. The attack on Dol Guldur and the War of the Ring. Before it all began, an elfling was found. In the chaos, elfs neglect him. Something that shouldn't have happened. And one to blame, the King. Thranduil, watch your back. Revenge can be sweet for one torn apart elf whom you ignored all along.
1. Chapter 1

**Alas, For Captains No Hope.**

**Summary**: _Mirkwood, T.A. 2891. Fifty years before history would reach another black point. The attack on Dol Guldur and the War of the Ring. Before it all began, an elfling was found. In the chaos, elfs neglect him. Something that shouldn't have happened. And one to blame, the King. Thranduil, watch your back. Revenge can be sweet for one torn apart elf whom you ignored all along._

**Introduction: **This story will be a deep, hurtful story. The chapters one to three are filled with light fluff and lovely happenings. From there on, it will take a twist. I haven't worked out how much yet, but it certainly will not stay as in the first three chapters. See them as an introduction, before you will enter the mind and life of one heartbroken, grieving elf who refuses to sail or give into his grief. One who has something to finish, before finally leaving Middle-Earth. Someone who has been neglected, ignored, bullied and had too much on both physical and mentally level.

An elf who will take revenge – whether he truly meant it or not.

**Skip the_ first three chapters_, if you like. I would advise it, if you aren't very fond of sweetness and fluff. Hopefully my more serious and harsh chapters will you convince you to read it.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything, besides possible OC's. The genius J.R.R. Tolkien owns Middle-Earth, Lord of the Rings, Hobbit and any further works and creations of his. I will not gain anything from this story, besides something to do in my free time and the enjoyment of writing it.

**T.A. 2891**

It was a normal day in Mirkwood. The usual patrols scheduled were patrolling, small spider webs were being cleared, elflings had their archery classes, novices were pushed to their limits and Ellyth were anxious waiting for news. Nothing that stood out in particular.

In a small cramped room sat a tall, powerful ellon filling in paperwork. As for him, the same tasks were needed to be done. Tasks who required his fullest attention and observation. Before him, the realm's most important letters and information were laid open. Because he was no normal ellon, he was King Thranduil of Mirkwood. Ruler of the wood-elves, son of Oropher. The usual life was not his faith and has never been, for he would rule the lands till his death. He would keep the Shadow and the elves of old Greenwood the Great divided. He would stay until the last of the elves had departed for the Havens.

Today's tasks were among others to read the recently send requests of the settlements to the south of Mirkwood and prepare the information for the court taken place the next day. It was his penultimate task of the official day of work. The king's job was never finished, for he had to be prepared for sudden change of events. Spiders nor orcs would take a break unless they were dead or making plans. The last one made the whole realm anxious, for their beloved ones were out there. This sadly included the king's own sons, who were fighting in Mirkwood's patrols.

King Thranduil signed the letter to the settlements with a sigh of relief. That was at least done! Any news of the settlements was never good. The citizen were always having mischief in any way, causing the court many troubled nights. Even good news for the settlement was bad for them. With good news, they would mostly complain about their lack of assistance in it. With bad news, all the blame would go to them. Not only that, also the demands of help and more wealth. If elves could grow grey hairs, they would all be as grey as Mithrandir himself! Perhaps that was one of the reasons for immortality; Perhaps the Valar had foreseen their trouble with the settlements and showed mercy.

With one hard blow Thranduil Oropherion threw the map closed on his wooden desk. Now he only had the task left to overlook the palace gardeners' request. Unlike the other tasks, that was closer to home. Or more importantly, that was closer to his beloved ones.

The gardeners' request kept the king up until dawn. The request involved placing new kinds of flowers in the back of the queen's personal garden, which had been abandon after the beloved queen's sudden death. The king himself had been too troubled in his mind to take actions. His children had closed themselves away from the world, preferring to grieve on their own. This left the

staff assisting the queen to manage the garden. They had left their king alone as long as they could, but finally it had been too much for them to handle. They tried to send their request to his advisor, but to no avail. Thranduil discovered the problems himself after a short walk through his beloved's gardens. Enough was enough, he decided. His people had given him more than enough time to grieve, it was time that he started picking up life again.

Finally the close to heart request was filled in, he called it a day. He pushed his chair back and stretched himself, readying himself to go to his bedchamber. He set his chair back to the desk and cleared the last bit of papers. The office looked good enough to him.

When the king was close to reaching the wooden door, a knock was sound. "Come in." He said. The door opened and one of the guards on duty appeared in the entrance. "My lord." He greeted with a smooth bow to his sire. The king nodded to him and gave order to stand up. What would be the problem on this sleepless night? He wondered. It could be a hundred things, from spider attacks to greedy men hunting in his woods. What would this night bring to his door?

The guard still stood in warrior position, waiting for his king to let him tell his story. Time had passed since he had entered the office. The king was still pondering about possible events that had taken place and made plans in his mind to take action. He had prepared for the worst, but was caught off guard when the guard told what happened. Most of what was told was lost for the king, for he heard only one sentence.

"..No one was hurt this night..."

The king released his breath which he hadn't realized he had been holding all this time. No one had been hurt, nothing serious had taken place. The first time in months, the news brought to him in the middle of the night had not gotten serious effects for all he knew. No messages of despair and death had to be brought by captains to family members, no funerals had to be prepared. It had been nothing to be concerned over. Everyone was safe.

"My lord?" Thranduil snapped back to the reality. The guard stood uncomfortable in front of him, searching for a reaction to the situation. His king had made no suggestion whatsoever or made any attempts to help the situation. What had happened to his sire? This had been a very unusual reaction. The king always had a solution, or a way to calm the situation. But this night, the kind merely had closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Why? No news of cruel deaths had been brought to him. No news of hurt of his beloved had been brought up. All he had told, was the event that had happened in the stronghold. It wasn't something that usually happened, but it hadn't been too bad either. Maybe the king wasn't very fond of the idea?

Thranduil seemed to realize the impression he had made on the guard. Unlike other nights, the guard looked scared. Guards always learned how to shelter their emotions or reactions, but this guard made them clear in this night. He had to fix this. "Please repeat the story, Berion. I will see if I can help you." He said, in the old reassuring voice. The guard named Berion blinked, before grabbing himself together. In a more calm voice, he told the king the happenings of that evening for the second time that night.

It had been several minutes after Berior had left the office, leaving his lord to think about a possible solution. Much to his own dismay, Thranduil had been relieved about the story. It had to be taken seriously, not with this careless mood.

Instead of wrong ended battles, the problem had been harmless. No warriors, enemies or any other danger had been included. At least as far as he knew. You would never guess what had happened; Not in a million years.

Under a tree in a recently build wooden cottage, a baby had been found! An innocent, slightly scared creature made by Ilúvatar, otherwise know as Eru. In simple words: One of the children of Ilúvatar, just like any other elf or men. But this child was not one of the secondborn, he was one of them. Not only an elf, he was one of their! A wood-elf, a recently born one. Had Eru blessed them with an elfling, which were so rare at the time? For all he knew, the realm had been blessed. This night, a new citizen of Mirkwood had been born. One that could turn out to be a perfect warrior, or perhaps one of the court's advisors. Thranduil was truly happy, something that had rarely happened in the past few years since his wife's death. Perhaps Mirkwood would go in a new era full of happiness and luck. Whatever would happen from this night on, this one elfling would be included. But the question is, would this elfling be on their side? One thing was sure: King Thranduil was in for an adventure and a challenge, personal and mentally.

**Dictionary**

Elflings: Children of elves

Ellyth: Female elves

Ellon: Male elves

Oropher: Father of Thranduil, first king of Mirkwood.

Greenwood the Great: Old name for Mirkwood.

Havens: From here on the elves depart to Valinor.

Mithrandir: Elvish name of Gandalf.

Valar: Some see them as gods in their own right as each one has his/her own area of specialization just like the Greek or Roman gods; others see them more as Archangel types.

Berion: Means Protector.

Ilúvatar: Ilúvatar was the supreme God of Elves and Men.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alas, For Captains No Hope**

**Chapter 2**

**T.A. 2941**

It had been fifty troubling years for Mirkwood after the founding of the elfling under the tree in the backyard of one of the stronghold's wooden cottages. Since the year 2851 of the Third Age the uncomfortable feeling had arose in the Woodland Realm. In that year, the second meeting of the White Council had taken place and the news of Mithrandir's discovery the year before was revealed. It had been a shock to all. The wizard had found out that the Necromancer in Dol Guldor was none other than Sauron. He had regained his powers, millennia after the Battle of Dagorlad.

This year the third meeting of the White Council had been held. After all these years, they finally had agreed to attack Dol Guldur. It had taken a lot of effort to convince Saruman, also known as Curunír for the elves. He was the appointed leader of the Council and had overruled and mocked his fellow colleague Gandalf for inter alia his smoking. But even Saruman submitted, for he knew that Sauron was searching for the One Ring in the Anduin, also know as the Great River.

After the decision had been made, Mirkwood was preparing itself to launch an attack on Dol Guldur. Many had been fearing it and were troubled with the choice. In the time of Greenwood the Great it had been the capital of Oropher's Silvan Elves. No one wished to go there, for it held memories so deep it could make an elf fade of grief. Now it also was the fortress of Sauron, whom everyone openly feared. But the deed had to be done; Sauron couldn't stay there any longer. It was time the wood-elves took back Southern Mirkwood. It was after all in their own realm.

Warriors of the Woodland Realm were occupied with the task of gathering every weapon and every ellon able to fight. It were bitter times for the Elvenking, who had to watch it all happen from the palace. His own children were also out there, fighting for their freedom. All he could do was encourage his citizen to fight as the best as they could and lift as much weight from their shoulders as he could. With slightly slumped shoulders, king Thranduil watched with a troubled heart the tear wreaking moments of warriors saying their goodbyes to their beloved ones. It was time.

While everyone was busy with embracing family, friends and preparing to leave, one small elfling of only fifty years was playing with wooden blocks in his backyard. He had been watching the elves around him all day, until he decided he did not get any of the things they did. He had grabbed his toys and marched in an elfling manner to his own cottage. There he was now, pondering in silent about the activities of the unusual day. He did not understand the tears, the sobs or the emotionless expressions. He did not get why elves he did not knew lifted him up, hugging him closely. He did not know the reasons behind their actions. He wished he did, but he couldn't. How hard he tried, he did not get them. Maybe it was for the best, because their reasons were all but peaceful.

The elfling continued with playing outside under the tree he loved so dearly until one of the ellyth gathered him in her arms, lulling him slowly in a comfortable slumber. Her eyes were filled with tears, her heart filled with doubt. She had been betrothed for several months with one of the younger warriors when the news had been announced of the attack. She had been heartbroken when she discovered that he, as warrior, had to be present for the attack. Whether she wanted it or not, he would leave together with the other soldiers to the haunted Dol Guldur.

She had been wandering through the stronghold for hours, until she saw the lonely elfling besides the path. Her heart broke even more by the sight. One elfling, playing with blocks in the middle of the night. Alone, with no traces of life near him. The elleth immediately made her way over him, for she had an heart of gold.

Several moments later, she opened the garden door of the small cottage with the elfling safely in her arms. She was greeted by a what supposed to be cosy looking interior. To her right was a tiny kitchen, too high for the elfling to reach without a small stair. The kitchen was completely made out wood. The cabinets were sloppy crafted by someone who had no knowledge of the speciality. The sink was half demolished and on the counters were layers of dust. The elleth shook her head in dismay. It seemed like the child had been left on his own for all these years. She had never been in the stronghold for long and never heard of his story. She originally came from one of the southern settlements, but had to flee to the stronghold because of Sauron. The Shadow had been affecting the southern part of the realm quite badly. No elf dared to enter the area on his own without a back up with twenty or more elves. The trees had been darkened by the vile orcs and barely lived. Southern Mirkwood was nothing more than a destroyed place that used to be beautiful.

She shook the thoughts of her home away and reopened her eyes, which she had closed. "Where should I start?" She asked herself. She looked around the room once again before turning to the sleeping elfling in her arms. He was peacefully sleeping with his thumb in his mouth. It didn't seem like he would wake up anytime soon. Not that she minded, it meant more time for her to think about things. The first thing on her to do list was to help this lost, lonely elfling with his life. It would lift a bit of weight off her shoulders. Softly she made her way up the stairs, observing the walls while doing so.

Upstairs wasn't much better than downstairs. The walls had cracks in them and were full of dirt. You couldn't expect a mere child to look after the condition, could you? She merely shook her head at the sight before continuing looking around. Which room was the elfling's room? There were several doors in which the room could be behind. Perhaps the elfling didn't even have his own bedroom. But even with that possibility in her head, she stubbornly tried every door. It turned out that the elfling did have his own room! It was not very much, but you could see a nest of things he had been collecting over the years in the far corner of the room. She didn't have to think too long before realising the poor child had been sleeping on there. She wanted to change that dramatically, but couldn't do much for the time being. Carefully she laid the elfling on the nest he had created and covered him underneath an old, worn baby blanket. She watched him getting comfortable for a while. He smiled as most elflings did; Sweetly and with a bright smile on his face. It warmed her heart dearly. Then she stood up and made her way out the room, leaving the door slightly open.

The next day the elfling woke up refreshed at the usual time. Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, warming the room. He twisted a few times around under the blanket before opening his eyes. They immediately darted around to check the surroundings. Everything seemed normal. But what was that? The elfling sniffed and his eyes widened. He smelled something delicious! He crawled out of his spot and darted to the door. He carefully looked through the gap and saw the hallway empty. The smell must have come from downstairs! It warned the elfling. Before he sneaked downstairs, he grabbed his small bat from underneath a few papers. It was time to investigate the situation!

With soft steps the elfling crawled on his hand and knees to the beginning of the stairs. After a few seconds doubting he turned around, facing the stairs with his back. Carefully he crawled his way downstairs.

When he reached the ground, he immediately spotted the elleth of the night before working in the kitchen. She wore one of the aprons usually hanging on the hook besides the kitchen. She was stirring with a wooden spoon through a black frying pan he had seen before in one of the cabinets on the ground, the one he could climb in. She seemed like a lovely elleth, but he was not sure if she was truly nice. Time to test it!

The elfling grabbed one of his woollen toys and threw it in one swing to the elleth. To his dismay, it hit the base of her right foot. He pouted at the failure which he had planned to turn out as victory. Although the hit wasn't too hard, the elleth had felt it. From the corner of her eyes she watched the elfling sulking at the end of the stairs. She shook her head with a smile on her lips.

Seconds later she turned around with the frying pan in her hands. She smiled sweetly to the child, encouraging him to come closer. He thought about it for a moment before crawling an inch towards her. She softly laughed at his action. In response, he crooked his head and pouted again. She merely shook her head again before crouching to his eye level. Curiously he crawled even nearer to her. She slowly reached out to him and touched his hand slightly. Confused, he laid his hand in hers.

"Come, don't be afraid. I made you some breakfast. Shall we eat that first?" She asked him while pointing to the pan. He nodded and scooted over to her, his small left hand reaching over towards the pan. She carefully grabbed his hand and turned it away. "No, you will not eat from the pan. It will be much safer and easier to eat it from a plate, don't you think?" He agreed. She picked him up from his spot on the floor and set him down on a children chair, which she had found early in the morning. With newfound excitement, the elfling examined the chair with interest.

Some time later two plates were empty and the elleth and the elfling were staring at each other. "Do you have a name, pen neth?" The elleth asked the elfling. He shook his head in response. "How comes that?" He did not meet her gaze. It worried her greatly. "Tithen pen?" She tried again, to no avail. He still refused to meet her eyes. The only thing he was doing was staring at the wooden floor and kicking his legs up in the air.

She decided it was better to leave him alone. She stood up from her seat and gathered the dishes and the cutlery. With ease she cleaned them up in the broken sink and put them back at their old places. Although the elfling lived on his own, someone made sure he had most of the things necessary in a house. She couldn't help but wonder who did that and why that someone did not take care of him. Why would you leave a mere elfling alone in a house?

"I was never named." A soft voice said behind her. She progressed the information given and blinked in confusion. This elfling hadn't been named yet? She took the plug out of the sink and let the water flow away. Her head turned to the hurt child on the chair who was still swinging his legs. She moved over to him and crouched in front of him.

"Why elfling, do you look like a thief in the night? You have not committed a crime. The elves who abandon you are to blame for the fact that you don't have a name. Not you! Look at me, pen neth. It's not your fault." She took his chin in her hands. "Do you understand that?" He nodded. "It hurts." He whispered again. "What hurts?" She softly questioned. "Knowing that nobody found me worthy enough to give me a name, an identity." He responded. Tears stung in her blue, clear eyes. "Come here, Tithin-Gil." She took the elfling in her arms and rocked him while patting his back. "It will get better in the future. I will take care of it, tithen pen." She whispered in his ear. "It all will turn out fine. We will get through this, together."

Later that evening the two of them sat on the rocking chair near the window downstairs. The elfling was seated on the elleth's lap, his head on her chest. He listened to her heart beat, which beat on rhythm. It was quite relaxing for the tired child. The elleth had been troubled with the same question the whole day after their heart to heart conversation about his name. She had build up the courage to ask and finally did so. "Hina, what would be your name if you could choose?"

The elfling immediately turned his attention to her. "My name?" He asked confused. "What name would you choose?" He started pondering. "Something that fits me?" He asked for confirming. The elleth nodded. "Something that fits you." She confirmed. "Hmm..." He murmured to himself.

It was some time later when he came back with an answer. The elleth had expected that, for she knew that the child was not one to not respond. "I don't know. Can I suggest several names?" He asked shyly. "Of course!" She replied with a bright smile.

"I think my name would be either Cellinnor, Camaenor, Celegon or Celeblasson." He announced proudly. "Flowing Music, Skilled Hand, Swift or Silver Leaf?" She repeated in the Common tongue in confusing. "Yes, definitely! Something tells me they will fit me in the future. Two of them already proved true!" He happily told. "Really? Tell me all about it!" She exclaimed.

"I already love music. I once found an old guitar near the small stream running through the stronghold! I think I might learned myself how to play. Shall I show it to you?" Before she could answer the elfling had already jumped of her lap and ran to storage next to the kitchen. With strength she hadn't expected, he opened the stiff door and grabbed something out of it. With a grinning face he returned to her and took place on the ground before her. Out of nothing, music was heard in the first silent room. Her jaw dropped open at the sound. The elfling who was equal to the human age of five, strummed the guitar perfectly!

When he was finished playing the short melody, the elleth stood up and applauded him. "That was brilliant!" She exclaimed. "Hannon Le." He responded excitedly. "Come, put the guitar away and tell me about the other name." She suggested. He hastily did as what she said and then climbed back on her lap.

"I think myself as swift." The elfling admitted to the elleth. "I can run pretty fast with my legs!" He explained. "Are you going to demonstrate that too, Tithin Maethor?" The elfling shook his head firmly. "I'm too tired!" He exclaimed loudly. The elleth laughed merrily. "I think you lasted very long. It is already dark outside!" She pointed to the open window. "We should both go to bed. Would you mind if I use the couch to sleep on?" He shook his head. "No, I don't mind. Tenna' tul're!" With that, he ran upstairs to his room. When he was out of earshot, the elleth laughed. What an elfling! She stood up and got ready for the night. Tomorrow she would go to King Thranduil and demand an explanation!

**A/N**

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. As I had also said on 'Warrior of Gondor - Corsairs of Umbar', I was on holiday and afterwards got sick. I hope this chapter will make it up for you. From now on, I will try to update regularly. I must notify you that from the September the third, I will be going back to school. With the amount of homework I cannot guarantee you an chapter every week - but I'll try. That's the best I can do.

Thank you for reading! Please review, favorite and follow this story. I'd appreciate it a lot!

Kind regards,

The author of this story.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything besides the plot and the OC's. The genie of a J.R.R. Tolkien created the world of Middle-Earth and it's original citizen. Bless his work! Thanks to this man, we now have books like the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and fanfiction in this category!

**Translations**

**Mithrandir: **Gandalf (Elvish)

**Curunír: **Saruman (Elvish)

**Ellon: **Male elf (Sindarin)

**Ellyth: **Female elves (Sindarin)

**Elleth: **Female elf (Sindarin)

**Pen neth: **Young one (Sindarin)

**Tithen pen:** Little one (Sindarin)

**Tithin-Gil: **Little Star (Sindarin)

**Hina**: Child (Quenya)

**Cellinnor: **Flowing Music (Sindarin)

**Camaenor: **Skilled Hand (Sindarin)

**Celegon: **Swift (Sindarin)

**Celeblasson:** Silver Leaf (Sindarin)

**Hannon Le**: Thank you (Sindarin)

**Tithin Maethor: **Little warrior (Sindarin)

**Tenna' tul're: **Until tomorrow (Elvish)


	3. Chapter 3

**Alas, For Captains No Hope**

**Chapter 3**

**T.A. 2941**

The next day the elleth and the elfling walked hand in hand towards the palace of their king. The elfling was happily bouncing besides her, while taking his surroundings in. On normal days, he would always move through the buses, out of the view. But today, he was in sight for everyone. He found it exciting but scary at the same time. All those eyes! They amazed him. They all had different colours and told a story. Some had a bitter past, others were full of life. But one thing they all had in common; No sign of age was shown in any of them. Their faces were ageless and so was the rest of the body. The elfling wondered in silence if he would turn out that way, too. He hoped it!

"Have you decided on a name yet, tithen pen?" The elleth asked him. He turned towards her and looked up, his eyes showing interest in the question. He pondered for a short while about the question. Had he chosen a name yet? No. He shook his head firmly. The elleth took the hint and continued to look towards the palace again.

Soon enough they reached the palace doors. Tall they were, reaching out to the second floor. They were also beautiful crafted, as the rest of the palace. Although it was located in a cave, it was a beautiful sight to behold. The little elfling looked his eyes out. What big! He thought to himself.

Several guards were located around the building. They wore all the same uniforms, but they had different symbols on them. They indicated the rank of the soldiers. One guard immediately noticed the two of them and made his way over. His symbol was different than the others. The elfling pointed that out to the elleth in a mere whisper. She smiled at him and answered his question. "He has a different symbol because he is of another rank. He is the palace guard's lieutenant. The others are normal guards." She explained.

"That is correct, Faervel. I am currently the one in charge here, pen neth. The palace guard's commander is currently in a meeting with king Thranduil." He told the elfling. He merely nodded in understanding and continued to suck on his thumb in silence. "He does not talk much, lieutenant." The elleth informed him. "I understand that. Faervel, may I ask who he is? I have never seen him before and it is very unlike you bore an elfling in these times without anyone noticing it." The lieutenant said with suspicion in his tone.

It was not the first time someone of the stronghold judged an elleth or ellon because of their origin from one of the settlements. The elleth became tense after he spoke out the words. She had heard from her neighbours about the palace guards' behaviour, but that it was this worse!

"He has not been named yet." She announced to him. The elfling looked from her to the lieutenant and back. He was lost about the situation.

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes at the response. Slowly, he crouched to the elfling's level without permission. The elfling's response was to back away, still holding the hand of the elleth tightly. When he backed away, the lieutenant came even closer. The elleth named Faervel became nervous and eyed the other guards with scared eyes. Some of them began to move uncomfortable under her gaze, but didn't make an effort to help her out. They were told not to leave their post and were not about to go against their orders.

Then out of nowhere, the king and the palace guard's commander walked out of the palace. They both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the awkward situation playing out in front of them.

"I demand an explanation, lieutenant Baralinor. For what reason did you forsake your post near the entrance?" He confronted the lieutenant. "Commander! I had not seen you coming." The lieutenant began. The commander immediately cut of him. "Before you will give us an explanation, I advise you to come nearer. In that way, screaming won't be necessary and the elfling won't look horrified."

Said elfling looked up from the ground. He pointed to himself in confirmation. "Yes, you. Do not be afraid, pen neth. We will not hurt you, will we?" He questioned the lieutenant. He gulped nervously and shook his head.

The lieutenant now stood besides the commander and the king, away from the elleth and the elfling. "Baralinor, please explain the situation to me." The commander suggested. "Well..." He began.

Shortly after he began, the report of the lieutenant was finished. The commander then asked the elleth to tell her side of the story, which she gladly did.

"If I understand it correctly, Baralinor accused Faervel without actually saying it out loud and proceeded in scaring one terrified, upset elfling? I am more than a bit disappointed with you, lieutenant. You are dismissed. Please wait in my office." He ordered the dismayed guard. "Yes, commander." He responded before turning his back to them and marching inside.

After he was out of sight, both ellon returned their attention to the two visitors. In front of them was one nervous elleth and one confused elfling, who had bitten on his thumb. The commander sighed at the sight welcoming him. Sometimes his forces could be so foolish!

Carefully he stepped forwards, signalling to the elfling while doing so. The elfling crooked his head as he usual did when he didn't get what was going on. The elleth and commander smiled at him.

When the commander reached the elleth and elfling, the elfling still stood on the same spot. In his eyes, the ellon was not as scary as the lieutenant. "Mae govannen, Tithin Maethor. My name is commander Arveldir, but you can call me Arveldir for once. Do you have a name, tithen pen?" He friendly asked the elfling.

Again the elfling pondered about the question. Had he gotten a name today? No. As he did by the elleth, he shook his head. "No name? Well, shall we change that? Every child of Ilúvatar deserves an identity." He declared. Immediately he got a large smile in response. "Do you approve, pen neth?" He laughed. The elfling nodded hard. "I like that!" The elleth gave him a light tap on the shoulder. He shortly pouted to her before returning his attention to the stranger. "Please?" He politely asked. "Of course! He has manners, hasn't he? Well done, Tithin Maethor!" He patted the elfling on his back.

Meanwhile the king looked with sad eyes to the elfling. He recalled that one evening, fifty years ago. Elves' memories were always very clear, they rarely forgot something. He remembered the news brought to him that evening in his office. He had been so glad, he had forgotten about the elfling. The elfling that had lifted weight from his shoulders. The elfling that stood in front of him, without a name. Without an identity. Something that he had forgotten to give him. Fifty years of the elfling's life had been wasted because he hadn't taken precautions. Foolish, he found himself. Where had the elfling been all those years? He looked unpleasant slim. Had he been fed all those years? Had someone cared for him?

Elves were known for their protectiveness of their elflings and yet there was one elfling that no one had cared about. Knowing that had hurt Thranduil more than he ever expected. He, as the king of the Woodland Realm, had failed the duty to protect and care for his citizen. Not just any elf, it was just a mere elfling! Valar, he was furious with himself!

"My lord?" One of the guards appeared behind the king. Thranduil turned his head around and mentioned him to speak up. "Would you mind if I and some of the other guards give some of our lunches to the elfling? He has been rubbing over his tummy for quite a while. We think he might be a bit hungry." He explained. Thranduil glanced around and saw that the elfling was indeed rubbing his tummy. "Of course. I will return the money of the lunches with your salary." He told the guard.

"My lord, we do not need anything in return. We are after all wood-elves. We care about every elf, we do not need to be paid to do so. It us our plight as citizen of this realm." The guard stated. "We, or at least I, will not accept any form of payment for giving my lunch." He did not move his statement. Thranduil eyed him curiously, but did not say a word about it. He simply signaled to the other guards behind him that he approved. They immediately moved over to the elfling with baskets filled with lunches.

Mithrandir arrived in the Woodland Realm some time later. The guards near the gate politely welcomed him and offered to accompany him towards the palace, but he firmly declined the acceptance. "Surely I can find my way there, guard." He joked. It was good to be back once again! The wizard thought to himself. It would be a rough time, especially for Mirkwood. The attack was planned in a few months and no one knew for certain who would return and who wouldn't. But even at this time they were polite and friendly to him, the one who had urged an attack on Dol Goldur. It truly warmed the Istari's heart.

It took only a few moments to make his way to the palace on his tall, beautiful horse. When arrived there, the wizard was perplexed at the sight that greeted him. In front of the palace picnic blankets were spread around on the grass. On them sat guards from different ranks and different tasks, sharing their lunches. Behind them, in front of the palace doors, was the king seated on his wooden throne besides an elleth he knew was named Faervel, the palace guard's commander and one, yet unfamiliar elfling. It was certainly an unusual sight to beheld!

"Mithrandir! You arrived at a good time. We were having a picnic. Would you like to join us, mellon nin?" The king questioned. "I have always place for joyful events, Thranduil! But first I need to see to my horse. I will join you later." Thranduil nodded and returned to talk with the elleth Faervel.

"I shall invest that later. But first we will see to your needs, my dear friend." He told the horse he was seated on. He rode to the royal stables and took care of his horse. "It are strange times, but I foresaw with Elrond a bright future for Mirkwood." He said to no one. "That elfling will turn out well."

**A/N**

I will try to upload every Saturday. In case that doesn't work out well, please be patient. I'd appreciate it a lot! I'll try my best to write whenever I have time and know what to write. It doesn't help of course if I write without inspiration. I want to present the best I've got to you, my dear readers. Believe me when I tell you I will try my best, every day.

Thank you for reading!

Short notice, next two chapters will be quite dark. If that's more your thing, hopefully you'll enjoy it! They contain angst and one of them is centered in the middle of the attack against Dol Guldur. Certainly something to look forward to!

**Translations**

**Elleth: **Female elf (Sindarin)

**Tithen pen:** Little one (Sindarin)

**Faervel: **Strong Spirit (Sindarin)

**Pen neth:** Young one (Sindarin)

**Ellon: **Male elf (Sindarin)

**Baralinor: **Fiery Gleam in his Eyes (Sindarin)

**Tithin Maethor:** Little Warrior (Sindarin)

**Arveldir: **Royal Friend (Sindarin)

**Mithrandir:** Gandalf (Sindarin)

**Istari: **Wizard (Quenya)

**Mellon nin: **My friend (Sindarin)

**Information**

**Ilúvatar: T**he supreme God of Elves and Men. Even the Valar had to answer to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alas, For Captains No Hope**

**Chapter 4**

**T.A. 2941 – The attack**

Cottages near the path of the patrols heading to Dol Guldur were boarded up with wooden planks, no longer liveable. The woods were silent and dark. Animals had hidden themselves away from the sight, scared to death. Through the day and night warriors marched through the woods, not making a sound. Their faces were expressionless, their hearts petrified. With each step, their homes and beloved ones were getting smaller. It was the only option they had. They had to attack Dol Guldur. For the innocent. For the ones they dearly loved and who were terrified. They literally had no choice. And that all because of one person, if you could call him that. The Necromancer – Sauron.

Their destination was dark, cold and lifeless. Everywhere you looked it was black. Black of orcs, Uruk-haiand horses. In the dark were wargs, trolls and Easterlings placed. In the caves of Dol Guldur prisoners were being held and even more forces waited on the wood-elves. Whatever the outcome might be, it would be one bloody battle.

In the stronghold, ellyth and elflings were inside the cottages. Outside on the market square all left over warriors met up – both male and female. They were the ones unable to fight because of violent injuries, healing wounds or pregnancies. There was also one group of warriors who were too troubled by the shadow to operate normal. They would either die of grief before the attack ended or sail if they could manage a way to the Havens. To say it simple, the stronghold was filled with broken elves. All waiting with heavy weighing hearts for the outcome and prayed for the best.

'Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au.' (My heart shall weep until it sees thee again)

It was time. Mirkwood's forces stood lined up behind the last trees, in front of the border of the haunted fortress. Last prayers were said, the last weapons distributed. On the other side of the border stood an enormous army of the Shadow. Behind the wood-elves crawled the ever watching spiders, stings ready. They were trapped. All they could do was fight, and fight they would. The archers strung their bows, the swordelves held their swords firmly and the spearelves held their spears high above their heads. The unspoken signal was given. At once the three groups charged their attack – hoping for victory.

"Gurth gothrimlye!" (Death to our foes!) The troop commander yelled.

"Cuamin linduva yassen megrille!" (My bow shall sing with your sword!) The lieutenant of the archers screamed to the Easterlings and orcs.

"I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor!" (The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun!) The elves in charge of the swords cried before sprinting towards their enemies.

The elves in charge of the spears merely yelled in agreement to the battle cries.

Soon enough several bodies were already pilled up on the battlefield. Blood was spilled everywhere – on clothes, weapons, heads, bodies, buildings and on the ground. For every enemy the elves killed, five would take it's place. Wargs bit fiercely in the bodies of the elves, tearing them to the last piece apart. Horses kicked with force the elves from their path and led their riders to safety. Easterlings strung their bows and slashed through the bodies of the immortal. The trolls made the ground beneath them shudder and trampled their obstacles – whether they were friend or foe. Elf for elf went in their gigantic mouths, never to be seen again. Within moments, the first line of the wood-elves was gone.

Archers ran out of their arrows and changed their weapons. They joined the rest of the warriors on the ground, now accessible for the enemies on the ground without arrows or spears. Weapons lay spread around the battlefield. Some had been discarded by the enemy and others had been the property of fallen warriors. Chaos was seen in every corner of Dol Guldur, except for in the well secured dungeons and towers. The elves fought their way over to them – but had no success for a long time. Not one of them knew that neither friend or ally was alive.

After several distraught hours, Urak-hai made their presence known in the battle. Before anyone could stop their leader, he had reached Mirkwood's troop commander. His back was against the enemy – he was unguarded. Before he had registered any danger, a heavy dwarven steel blade the Urak-hai had stolen from the prisoners cut through him. He was instantly dead. His body hung on the end of the sword, like puppets in a puppet show. The troop commander of the Woodland Realm was no longer. The warriors were on their own.

Even without someone to lead them the elves of Mirkwood fought steady and determined on – something that made the enemy blind of anger. Furiously they cut through anyone in their paths towards the center of the wood-elves their forces. In the progress they had killed elf and orc alike. The elves reacted instantly and turned around to face the new foe. The last remainders of their knives were thrown and the last clean parts of their swords were covered underneath blood. Whether they would win or not, they would fight until the last elf died.

When most hope had vanished and victory was written on the orcs' foreheads, the secret weapon arrived on time. The truth had been all this time that the elves were only the first step of the plan – as distraction. The reaction of the occupants in Dol Goldur were almost priceless when they saw none other than the White Council themselves. It should have been priceless if not seven out of the ten forces were whipped away, not to return.

"Elen sila lumenn omentilmo." (A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting) Greeted the Lady of the light, Galadriel. Although the meeting was bitter, darker than ever before, the lady held her head high. The enemy would not win.

Behind the lady Galadriel the rest of the White Council was present. The Istari Gandalf and Saruman and the Lords Elrond and Círdan. All wore an equal expressionless mask. They would not give Sauron the pleasure of their defeated emotions.

The battlefield fell silent the moment the company arrived. Orcs, Urak-hai and Easterlings froze in their place, weapons still in their hands. The elves slowly looked around the scene and teared up at the sight. Around them, their comrades lay deadly still defeated on the cold, hard ground. Their eyes were open and showed a sea of emptiness, the light they once beheld blown out. Their fea had been transported to the Halls of Mandos. With hurt feelings, the warriors all paid their respects to the fallen.

After the long lasting silence, the enemy's forces started to panic. At once they all started to split up towards different directions. The wood-elves picked up their weapons for the last time and took off after the Shadow's creations. Together with the new forces from Lothlórien and Imladris they defeated the last of Sauron's troops.

Ten days later the forces of the Woodland Realm returned after their mission from Southern Mirkwood. The forces of the other Elven realms had taken the task of dispatching Dol Guldur of the last remainders of Sauron over. In their eyes, the wood-elves had done more than enough.

The warriors were awaited by worried, hopeful elves behind the gates of the stronghold. With them stood the Elvenking himself, who already had been informed of the situation.

Slowly the forces came into sight. Immediately cries were heard. Everyone had seen the amount of warriors present. King Thranduil silenced them all with one hand gesture. The crowd did as was told and returned to their places, following the movements of the troop carefully. Within moments the soldiers bowed in front of their sire, except for the lieutenant in charge.

"Aran nin Thranduil, we bring sad tidings." He announced. "We have fought with all the weapons and the power we possessed until the last servant of the enemy was disposed of. In our attack, Urak-hai killed the troop commander and several of our lieutenants. We also lost a big amount of warriors." The lieutenant paused and looked with a pained heart behind him, before continuing. "I will bring my condolences to each family of the fallen. Their bodies will be returned as soon as possible by our allies from Imladris and Lothlórien. May they all rest in peace." Thranduil nodded in approval.

The lieutenant sighed before finally telling the outcome of the attack. "Although we might won this battle, I must inform you about the end. Sauron has fled." Several elves instantly started to push through the crowd, towards the lieutenant. Murmurs were being heard and the crying became louder.

Had it all been for nothing? So many had fallen and the enemy had disappeared. Had it been worth the trouble, the heartbreaks? It was never worth it. Battles were never worth the death of elves, men, dwarves and hobbits alike. But sometimes, you simply hadn't a choice. The elves who had passed away made Middle-Earth safer for the ones who were still there.

The night was a blur for all the citizen of the Woodland Realm. Elves walking into each other, into buildings and fell over the biggest and smallest objects. They were numb in their body, their minds were empty. Faces were unrecognizable, words unheard. All they knew was that they might won the battle, but paid the ultimate price. They paid with the lives of their beloved ones. It was a tough night for all, not only for the ones who had waited for news. Several of the warriors who had left with the troop commander had learned of the fate of the normal patrols, of the ones who couldn't bear the grief anymore.

The spiders they had seen before the battle had retreated to one of the patrols scouting the area. Those in the patrol had not returned – their carcasses were found in the spiders' hole or in their webs.

The elves who had been troubled by the Shadow had either faded or passed away on their way to the Havens, when they had been ambushed by orcs and Easterlings.

One thing was sure: Mirkwood had suffered a big loss.

A few days later funeral procession arrived with a big amount of the bodies. They were already released by the authorities after being cleaned of blood, possible weapons on their body and the cause of death was found. The rest would be send once the same procedure was finished.

As on the day of the warriors' return, the king and the citizen waited in the courtyard. This time, it was well organized without any problems. They all waited in silence for the funeral procession to arrive. The king then walked over to the leader of the company and finished the politic greetings. After that was done, the temporary coffins were laid besides each other in a neat line. The warriors present at the attack were called forwards to identify the bodies of the fallen. If they could not identify them, a second group of citizen would walk past. There would come a new group each time the identifying was not successful until it was.

When the coffins were opened, several elves already saw the bodies of their beloved ones. Even then the progress was performed. Luckily for everyone present, the bodies were identified after one round. This was a big relief for all.

The upcoming days the Woodland Realm prepared herself for the burning of the bodies. They collected burning wood, prepared the bodies for the ritual and made the usual measures needed for a traditional warrior's funeral. Then finally the time came to say their farewells – something bitter but relieving for them at the same time.

"Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva" (Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet)

The time of Sauron in Dol Guldor was over.

**Translations**

**Ellyth: **Female elves

**Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au:** My heart shall weep until it sees thee again

**Gurth gothrimlye!:** Death to our foes!

**Cuamin linduva yassen megrille!:** My bow shall sing with your sword!

**I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor!:** The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun!

**Elen sila lumenn omentilmo:** A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting

**Fea: **The spirits or souls of creatures as Elves and Mean.

**Aran nin: **My king

**Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva:** Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet


End file.
